A bad day to be a bandit in Skyrim
by Darkfursilvermoon
Summary: So, this is a couple of one-shot style chapters of the Dragonborn fighting bandits, sabrecats etc. Feel free to R'N'R, no flames please. T for violence.
1. Bandits

The sun rose over the fair land of Skyrim, bathing the tundra around the city of Whiterun with soft, golden rays. Bees buzzed and bumbled around their hives, foxes basked in the warmth, and the native elk and deer grazed quietly. A pack of wolves, sat on a rocky outcrop, lifted their muzzles and howled at the eggshell blue sky.

A group of men, bandits, thieves and highwaymen by trade, languished round a small campfire. The gang consisted mainly of Nords, and a Breton or two. Some were playing dice while others ate the prey that they had brought down, rabbits, deer and suchlike. Suddenly, they came alert; hushed to silence by their leader, they waited. A lone Khajiit warrior, sword drawn in one hand and with flames flickering and dancing in the other, walked calmly in. The bandits leered; an easy kill. After all, she was one, and they were many. Confident, they taunted her.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, _friend_." One smirked.

"You'll make a fine rug, cat." Another sneered.

The Khajiit turned to the one who had just spoken and ran him through. The bandits scrambled up and drew their weapons. Blood arced as she whirled to deal with the next attacker. A flurry of swift slices and he lay dead at her feet. Turning, she blasted a nearby two who were standing together with flame. They crumpled. Three more were slain, and she turned to the last, the Chief.

"_Fus! Ro! Dah!_" She shouted.

He was hurled backwards as a tremendous, unrelenting force hit him. Painfully, he scrambled up.

"Who are you?"

"I am the Dragonborn." She whispered as she slew him with a single thrust. His eyes widened, and then glazed over in death. Pulling her sword free, she wiped it clean on his body, and thrust it into its scabbard. The flames went out as the warrior strolled out of the bandit camp, back to the road.


	2. Sabre cat

**So, second chapter... I found it quite hard to decide what to do in this one so I played the game and wrote about the first enemy that came up that wasn't a bandit. What should the next chapter contain? Please review answers or PM me! R'N'R!**

The stream that ran past the city of Whiterun meandered slowly beside the road, chuckling and whispering secrets to the listener. A Nirnroot pulsated light by a fallen tree trunk, adding a chiming harmony to the sound of the water.Small fish swam and frolicked in the watery prison, Histcarp, River Bettys and Silverside Perch. Further along, the road made a cross road as the stream turned; two bridges over the swirling water lead off in different directions to the other places of Skyrim.

A Khajiit traveller walked along this road, with a sword whispering cold buckled to her side, a Dragonscale helmet covering her head and mail made of ebony that seemed to absorb shadows and made the hair/fur/scales on the back of any passersby's neck stand up as a chill went down their spine. Ahead, a growl split the air; a Sabrecat was pacing at the end of one bridge, tawny fur rippling in the sunlight. Any other traveller would have turned around then and there; but not the Dragonborn. As the Cat noticed her, the Khajiit's armour turned black; her sword whistled as it was pulled from its sheath, flame flickered in her left hand and she went into the crouched stance of a warrior. The Sabrecat roared as it leapt at her. In retaliation her armour seemed to leech the life from it even as flame seared it and sword sliced at its tawny mane. Thus attacked, the Cat sought not to kill now, but to flee; but as it turned the beast slumped down, dead. The armour turned back; the sword was sheathed; the flames went out as the traveller resumed her journey.


	3. Thalmor

**Thanks to CrazyHorse14 for giving me the idea for this chapter, (I totally agree with your opinion on the Thalmor) and for everyone who reads and reviews! I thought I would do this in archaic style just to see what it is like to write in it. Please, bear with me. Keep giving me ideas! R'N'R!**

It was late afternoon in the fair land of Skyrim. The sun bathed the grasses in the last rays of light as it slowly sank below the faraway horizon. But lo, five men come through the still valley; golden armour shines, contrasting with the snooty looks. All the men were clad such apart from one, who was clothed in rags uncouth, and his hands were bound before him. He stumbled along, devoid of hope.

But see, a silhouette doth appear on the horizon; a figure astride a large horse, clad in armour of steel and bone. A mighty figure, with long black hair streaming behind. The knight came down from high saddle, and walked forward. The golden ones blustered, claiming superiority that they had not earned; and the Dragonborn (for it was she) unsheathed a mighty blade in response. One swing, two; that was all it took. She released the prisoner, and returned to horse. The Dragonborn disappeared below the horizon. This is the Dragonborn; may the ground quake as she passes.


	4. Dragon

The dragon ponderously flapped over the plain, and gave a half-hearted roar. By Azura, _why_ did he have to do this? Why couldn't he just stay in Sovengarde like he used to, roaring with old friends and telling tales of ancient times. Why did Alduin have to shove him out here to kill people? A bit of terrorising had been fun when he was younger, but he was too old now. He spotted a rider on horseback and recognised the Dovahkiin. Irritated, he swooped over and blasted the rider with ice. In return, the rider shot arrows at him. Cheeky. He landed – well, skidded, causing a huge dent in the ground – before turning and snapping at the girl. Her horse died, and the Dovahkiin got what looked like a very painful wedgie. He he. Then she got up, annoyed, and swung her sword through a face full of frost, bloodying the dragon's muzzle. He tried to grab her, but the Dovahkiin grabbed a horn and swung up onto his neck. He bucked and roared but she held grimly on before plunging her sword through his skull. Finally, as Death claimed him, he could return to Sovengarde.


	5. Slaughterfish

**This is what happens to Slaughterfish that attack me while I am wearing the Ebony Mail.**

The Dragonborn stood in the shallows of one of the stagnant pools near the city of Morthal. Flies and dartwings buzzed idly in between the brown, silent trees. Silverside perch, Histcarp and River Bettys drifted absently through the waters. The whole place stank of swamp and deathbells flourished. Mudcrabs buried themselves in ooze, or scuttled around looking for things to eat. The Dragonborn stood in a pool, reflecting on past events. Suddenly, her armour seemed to collect the shadows, and greenish black tendrils of darkness whipped and searched around her. She sighed as she looked down at a Slaughterfish that had no concern for its own safety. Its fearsome teeth were bared, and its fins were propelling it through the water towards the living legend as fast as it could go. As it swam closer, it turned black from the disease of the armour. It nipped the Dragonborn's boot, and broke some teeth on the hard bone. The warrior stared into the trees, engrossed by her thoughts. As swam in mindlessly for another try, it slowly toppled over from the poison and floated belly up on the water near the legend's knee, regaining its dull brown and grey colours, eyes glazed in death. She nudged it with her boot, and it slowly floated away. The Dragonborn sighed, turned, and walked away.


	6. Horker

**This chapter is dedicated to DirectionallyChallengedKensh i, because of walri, and to Essy-Chan, because it is her birthday. **

The Khajiit jumped from ice floe to ice floe over the freezing water. She was headed towards a large island mostly taken up by soaring cliff. She jumped onto the next floe, but misjudged it and skidded into the dark water. She shivered as the freezing water poured into her gauntlets, helmet, boots and through the links in her armour. She quickly clambered back onto the ice, shaking. She pulled it all off and emptied out her armour before carrying on.

After a while she splashed ashore and wished she could teleport to Breezehome where there was always warmth. She sighed and gathered some driftwood. It was sopping wet, but she could fix that. She put it in a pile, put the wet armour a metre to the side of it, stood well back and Shouted at the wood.

"YOL! TOOR! SHUL!"

Fire came streaming from the Dragonborn's mouth, instantly drying the armour and wood and setting the wood alight. Unfortunately, a spark landed on the armour and a small flame started eating at the undercoat of the mail. She ran over and stomped it out, cursing. She then went and sat in her underclothes by the fire, sword by her hand.

Ten minutes later, she was sound asleep by the fire when whiskers poked her face, and a warm rotten fishy breath snorted, making her gag at the stench. She opened her eyes at swung her sword into its head. It crumpled. She jumped up and realised that it was just a Horker. She sighed with relief, and then turned to look at it and felt a bit guilty for killing it. The guilt was gone half an hour later when she was roasting the meat over the fire.


	7. Stormcloaks

**Any Stormcloak supporters out there? Don't flame me for this, you milk-drinkers.**

The warrior stopped her horse on a rocky spur and looked down. A Stormcloak camp was laid out on the grass carpet. Several tents were laid out, with a table near a fire blazing in the centre. A man stood by the table polishing a sword. Several soldiers were stood warming their hands, chopping firewood or doing other menial tasks. Three horses cropped grass near the edge. The warrior dismounted and led her black mount towards a tree, tying the horse to it. She crouched and crept back to the spur. Looking down at the camp, a smile flickered around her lips. This was going to be interesting.

A few minutes later, she was beside the horses, with the animals between her and the camp. Still sneaking, she cut through the ropes tying them to a rail with a sharp ebony dagger. The fighter unsheathed a whispering blue sword and slapped each horse once on the rump with the flat of the blade, driving them towards the Stormcloak camp. The horses, panicked, raced through the camp kicking up the embers as they raced through. They bucked and tore down tents as the men ran trying to calm them. A general raced from his tent to find the source of the commotion and received a hoof to the stomach, throwing him into the canvas and winding him.

The warrior had been hiding behind a tree, and lit some flames in one hand, hefting the blue sword in the other. She nimbly stepped out, and took a deep breath. She strode towards the camp, and lifted her sword.

" STRUN… BAH QO." She Shouted at the sky. Clouds boiled over the previously blue sky, and lightning arced down at the terror-stricken soldiers. She grinned, then screamed as she felt a fiery pain in her back. She fell to her hands and knees gasping as the sword slid out with a metallic slither.

"How dare you come into our camp and attack us like this? Who do you think you are? Answer me, milk drinker!" She found herself gazing at the general's sword which was pointed into her face. Summoning the words of the dragon tongue, she Shouted at him with all of her strength.

"YOL…TOOR SHUL!" Her inferno hit him full on, and he fell away, sword bouncing on the grass. She dragged herself over to the healer's tent, and, ignoring the people there, downed several health potions. She held back screams of agony as her muscles knitted back together, flesh reconstructing itself and veins seamlessly re-joining. A nasty scar to join the others, she reflected. Now to deal with that blasted general. She strode out of the tent, anger billowing. She found him emerging from his tent, with new pink skin covering up the scars. He must have kept some potions there. She grabbed her sword and readied it. He swung his blade down at her feet and she jumped over it, swinging at his midriff. He leapt back to avoid the singing metal, then took two steps forwards and lunged. She deflected his blow and replied with a swipe of her own. He blocked and she counter blocked as they danced the dance of death and steel, darting blows and lunges, replied by feints and parries. She swept her sword low but then whipped it high but he parried and lunged. She took a quick sidestep to the right and swung at his shoulder but he flicked his blade up to meet it and they locked blades, noses touching. She jerked back and flicked her wrist around, disarming him neatly.

"Very well. Finish it." He said fearlessly. She gave him a long look, turned and walked away. He sighed. " At least tell me who you are!" he shouted after her.

She glanced over her shoulder and whispered.

"Dovahkiin."


End file.
